


Autumn Leaves

by MyDeerFriend



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Slow Burn, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-09-11 18:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9001144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyDeerFriend/pseuds/MyDeerFriend
Summary: A RogerxBree College AU in which Brianna Randall is spending a semester abroad in Oxford and literally runs into Roger Wakefield, the most gorgeous professor in history ;)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year !  
> This is my first foray into fanfiction so any feedback would be really useful and appreciated.  
> Thanks to bonnie-wee-swordsman and takemeawaytocamelot on tumblr for their beta skills and I hope you enjoy :)

  
                        ~ **Brianna** ~

  
_Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!_

  
It was her first day of school and she was already running late. And that in Oxford of all places! Daddy had made it clear on more than one occasion what a privilege it was for her to be able to spend a semester studying here, just because he had always kept his connection with the history department. And today of all days, her first class - which was about to start in five minutes, she noticed with a glance at her watch - was  'Introduction to Historical Research' with Dr. Linklater, Daddy's special friend.

_Oh god, Daddy will skin me alive if I make a bad impression!_

 

And everything was Geillis's fault. Brianna rummaged frantically through her satchel to find her notebook in which she had written down the timetable - and the room numbers. _Ah, there it was! Room B 2.204._ At least she was in the right wing of the building and on the right floor.

_B 2.112, B 2.116, B 2.201 - it must be right around the corner!_ Exhaling with relief, Brianna put her notebook back and adjusted the hold of her bag before she dashed around the corner.

 

There was a split-second where she realized she was about to crash into someone, but it was too late to do anything about it. She tried to move aside, but her shoulder collided with his side and they were both thrown off balance.

  
Time seemed to stop for a moment and she could see the man stumble, the cup in his hand tilting to the side and a stream of coffee pouring down his shirt.

  
"Fuck!"

 

"Shit!"

  
"I'm sorry!"

 

"I'm so sorry!"

  
He plucked the soaked fabric away from his chest and flashed her an apologetic smile and she noticed with growing apprehension that he was ruggedly handsome in a charming way - his hair a bit dishevelled, the baird a trifle too long, but with expressive green eyes that shone with intelligence and a sparkle of mirth.

  
_Great, Bree, a wonderful way to make a fool out of yourself in front of the most gorgeous man of the whole college._

  
"The first thing I noticed about English people is that they apologize for standing in your way if you bump into them," she blurted because it was the first thing that came to her mind. "But I really am sorry about that!" she exclaimed hastily, not wanting to give the wrong impression.

  
"Ach, it's no bother. I think I have a spare shirt in my office somewhere. You're from the States?" he asked curiously.

  
_Oh god, his office? Is he a professor?_

  
"Ah, yes - it's my first day actually," she shrugged. "And I'm already late for Dr. Linklater's class. I'm afraid it's just not my day - and it doesn't seem like yours, either."

  
_Awesome, just dig yourself in deeper._

  
"Well, that's probably true," he said with a rueful glance at his chest. "But Dr. Linklater's class is just down the corridor on the right - ye can make it if ye hurry."

  
"Thank you so much!"

  
"Ye're welcome!” He gave her another dazzling smile. “Just one thing - I'm not an Englishman, I'm a Scot." With that, he turned and headed down the floor. Brianna stood dazed for a moment, then she shook her head to clear it and hastened in the other direction.

  
Finally, she stood in front of the right room and knocked tentatively, then she opened the door and peered into the room.

  
"Ah, come in, come in! We were just about to start." The voice belonged to a elderly, genial looking man who seemed a bit familiar - maybe Daddy had shown her a picture once? Either way, he couldn't be anyone else than Dr. Linklater.

  
"I'm sorry for being late, but I had trouble finding the room," she mumbled as she made her way to a free seat.

  
_True enough, there had_ definitely _been trouble involved._

  
"No bother, my dear, no bother at all," he replied absent-mindedly, "where was I? Ah, right, for this class, the first half of the semester will be a lecture about the techniques of historical research and in the second half, you'll be working on a research project on your own. Learning by doing is what they call it, eh?"

  
In the next hour, there were a few technicalities arranged, some general advice (and admonition) given about academic life and all kinds of more or less funny anecdotes shared.

  
When Dr. Linklater ended the class, Brianna tried to blend inconspicuously into the crowd that hurried toward the exit.

  
"Miss Randall?"

 

_Shit_.

  
"Would you mind staying for a moment longer?"

  
_Daddy will be furious if he tells him I was late to my first class!_

  
Brianna took a deep breath and forced herself to smile, then she turned back to face him.

"Of course not, Sir, I'm so sorry that I was late earlier!"

  
He waved dismissively.

  
"Oh, no no, that's not at all what I wanted to talk to you about. It's just that I promised your father that I would help you to settle in properly - but I'm working on a new project at the moment, a book about the Bonnie Prince and his flight from Culloden Moor ... Anyway, what I wanted to ask you is if you would mind if I assigned a colleague of mine to be your guidance teacher? Mr. Wakefield is my research assistant and one of the youngest professors at the university - you're surely able to relate to him much more than to an dusty old man like me."

  
He smiled benignly and looked at her expectantly.

  
"Oh yes, sure, no problem - I mean I wouldn't mind either way." Brianna was just relieved that he wouldn't tell daddy.

  
"Excellent, my dear, excellent, I will write down for you where you can find his office and you can just drop by and introduce yourself, alright?"

  
She smiled pleasantly and took the sheet of paper from him.

  
"Of course, it will be a pleasure."

  
_Never have I been so wrong in my life._


	2. Chapter 2

**~Roger~**

 

_Where had he put...? Ah!_

  
Roger reached for the stack of papers piled up on his desk and pulled a thin brown folder out from between it with exaggerated care. The pile swayed alarmingly and he froze, but to his relief it settled down again. He let out the breath he had been holding and leaned back in his chair - in the process dislodging a stack of books balancing precariously on the edge of his desk that tumbled to the floor with a crash.

  
_The American lass had been right then, it was definitely not his day._

  
Roger crouched down next to his desk to examine the books carefully, but they didn't seem much damaged - thank god - most of them belonged to Dr. Linklater or the college library. He was gathering them into his arms when a knock sounded on his door.

  
"Mr. Wakefield?"

  
Startled, Roger shot up from his position on the floor and banged his head on the rim of the desk. He dropped the books on the table and clutched the back of his head, groaning, his eyes squeezed shut tightly. "Come in!" he called, sounding miserable to his own ears, so he straightened up and tried to look like he hadn't been bashing his head in only seconds before.

  
The door opened and a tall girl with long red hair slipped in. She closed the door behind her and turned around. His blurry vision began to clear and he recognized her as the American girl that had run into him in the hallway. At the same moment, she shrank back - presumably because she had recognized _him_ as the one who had spilled coffee on his shirt because she had crashed into him. Or maybe she had been taken aback by his punchline. _I'm not an Englishman, I’m a Scot. Really, who says that kind of thing?_

  
"Oh, it's you,” she said faintly. “You're assigned to be my guidance teacher for my stay and I came by to introduce myself, but I can just come back later - _or never_ ,” she muttered under her breath,  probably not meant for him to hear -  “if you're ... busy." She looked like she wanted nothing more than to blend into the wall.

  
"Oh, no no no, come in!" he exclaimed hastily with a quick look at the mess he had made of his desk. "I was just researching ... something."

_Oh god, what was it that made him so tongue-tied around her?_

  
He came out from behind his desk and offered her his hand. "Roger Wakefield. Dr. Linklater said you would come by. Can I help you with anything?"

She took his hand and shook it firmly. "Brianna Randall. Well, I wanted to introduce myself and make a good impression, but that's out of the question now, isn't it?" she cocked her head questioningly.

 

She was tall for a girl, probably the tallest girl he’d ever met, but she seemed anything but self-conscious about it. Most striking about her - apart from the unusual colour of her hair, of course - was the easy elegance with which she carried herself and the promise of strength that lay beneath it, like that of a wildcat ready to pounce. The strong bones of her face positively radiated fierceness and could have belonged to a viking marauder of old - but then perhaps they had. He realized he had been staring a second too long and cleared his throat.

"Please, have a seat."

 

He made an inviting gesture and was glad that he could withdraw behind his desk, the room had become stifling and he could feel himself begin to sweat under the thick woolen jumper he was wearing - but that had been the only article of clothing to be found in his office.

Roger tried to open the window inconspicuously and then settled in his own chair. "Do you need help with any of the formalities? Have you signed up for all the classes you want to take? Are you content with the accommodation?"

  
She contemplated that for a moment.   
"Hm, no, I think everything is arranged so far, thank you. My flat is really small, but my roommate is nice. She's in her second semester so she promised to show me around a bit."

  
"Very well then," he paused for a moment. "Do you have any of my classes by chance? I'll give a lecture about Weaponry and Warfare in the Middle Ages and one about Politics and Religion behind the Jacobite Risings."

  
He couldn't decide if he should wish for it or not. He was undeniably fascinated by Brianna Randall, but maybe it was better to nip any hint of an infatuation in the bud.

_And how should he give any coherent instruction in class when she was around?_

  
"Oh yes, I took the one on the Jacobite Risings!" she declared enthusiastically. "My father is a history professor as well and he always told me stories about it since it's one of his specialities. He even researched one of our ancestors who actually fought in the battle of Culloden, a British captain of dragoons."

 

"Aye, a good many of my ancestors fought on that battlefield too - on the other side, obviously. Don’t worry, I don't feel quite so personal about it as some, but I haven't forgotten, either,*" he added when he sensed her worry if she had offended him.

  
Then he remembered what she had said a moment before and the pieces fell into place.   
"Randall!" he exclaimed suddenly with so much vigour that it made Brianna flinch. "Your father is Frank Randall! I knew the name seemed familiar, but I couldn't quite place it. Maybe you don't - do you remember the Reverend Wakefield? He is - _was_ \- my late adoptive father."

  
Her eyes grew round with surprise.

"Oh yes, I remember him! Daddy always got excited about his letters. I’m sorry to hear he has passed."

 

“Aye, t’was almost a year ago now - his heart just stopped beating.” He swallowed back the feeling of loss and desolation that threatened to overwhelm him whenever he dwelled on the matter. Instead, he focused his attention back on her and earnestly said “Thank you.”

  
They smiled at each other cordially and a feeling of warmth settled in his stomach like he had finally found someone that he hadn't known he'd missed. Roger averted his eyes at last and cleared his throat.

 

"So… if there is anything I can help you with, you know where to find me, aye?” he said awkwardly and stood up.

 

"Sure. Thanks for the offer, Mr. Wakefield.”

 

They shook hands again and Brianna made her way to the door, but she paused halfway and turned back to him.

“I’m really sorry about the whole thing - maybe I could buy you a coffee sometime?” Then she hurried outside without waiting for an answer and the door closed behind her, leaving him staring after her in bewilderment.

 

_Had she just…?_

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Quote from Dragonfly in Amber


	3. Chapter 3

**~Brianna~**

  
Brianna closed the door behind her and leaned her head back against the heavy wood with a silent groan.   
_What the hell did I just say?_   
She had no idea what had come over her to invite her professor on a coffee date - she hadn't meant it that way, of course, had only wanted to make up for her earlier clumsiness, but now the scene kept replaying in her head.

  
Finally, she managed to get a grip on herself and resolved to go back to her room. She didn't have any classes till later in the afternoon and maybe she could just drink a nice cup of tea and forget that ever happened.    
  
When she stepped into the room, Geillis greeted her cheerfully, but Brianna ignored her completely and flopped down onto her bed face-down, finally letting out the groan she had been holding. She could feel Geillis standing beside her, so she muttered "Go away, I hate you" into the pillow.

  
"What did you say?"

  
Brianna rolled on her back and glared at her. "I said I hate you, Gilly. If you hadn't held me up this morning, I wouldn't have been late. And then I wouldn't have run into Roger Wakefield and he wouldn't have spilled coffee on his shirt. And I could have introduced myself like a normal person after Dr. Linklater assigned him to be my guidance teacher and not have asked to buy him a coffee!"

  
"Oh wow," Geillis said enthusiastically, unperturbed by her accusations. "He's a hottie. Did he take his shirt off?" she inquired casually.   
  
"Gillian!" Brianna screamed with frustration. "Of course not, we were standing in the hallway! Focus, please, that's a serious problem, I have to take his class. How can I ever look him in the eye again?"   
  
Geillis pondered the question for a moment. "I think it comes down to one question: do you want to go on a coffee date with him?"   
  
"What? No! He's my teacher! That would be beyond ... weird." She covered her burning face with her hands and tried not to think of his dazzling smile.

  
"But he's only a few years older," Geillis pointed out. "And it's far from uncommon."   
  
"That doesn't matter," Brianna said resolutely. "I can't go out with a professor and that's my last word." 

_ And even if I wanted to, he sure as hell isn't interested in some clumsy blatherskite. _   
  
"Fine, I got it," Geillis pouted. "But then I have the perfect solution for you."   
  
"I'm not so sure I want to know." Brianna raised her eyebrow skeptically, but of course, that didn't stop Geillis.   
  
"There's a pub crawl for the first semesters tonight and everyone who's interested - you can get drunk, forget about what happened and meet lots of new people! Come with me?" Geillis was thrilled by her own brilliance.   
  
"I don't know..." she hesitated. She wasn't legally allowed to drink in Boston and, unlike most of her peers, hadn't really tried it before.    
  
"It will distract you from your little problem," Geillis tried again.    
  
She sighed. "Okay, I'll give it a try."   
_ It would certainly be better than to brood over it all evening - and she didn't have to drink, after all _ .   
  
"Splendid! I'm starving after all this hurly-burly. It's almost time for lunch, do you want to join me?"   
  
Brianna rolled her eyes in mock exasperation.   
"Do you even need to ask?"

 

~~~ 

  
"Are you ready?" Brianna called for the second time in just as many minutes, again from a horizontal position on her bed. When she had agreed to accompany Geillis on the pub crawl, she hadn't thought that it involved waiting an hour for her to dress up.   
  
"I'm coming!" she called from the bathroom and indeed, two minutes later Geillis strode into the room and twirled around.    
"What do you say?" she asked expectantly.   
  
"Erm… it's nice. A little bit fancy, perhaps." The cream dress she wore was simply cut and complimented her skin color, but over it, she had donned some kind of feathery cape that reminded Brianna of a bird's wing.   
  
"Oh, really? I made it myself," she beamed at her proudly. 

  
"Oh yeah, it's really extraordinary."   
_Well, that wasn't technically a lie._  
  
"Alrighty then, let's go! What are you waiting for?"  
  
Brianna rolled her eyes and locked the door behind them, following Geillis down the stairs. The meeting for the pub tour was - had been, she corrected with a glance at her watch - at six and they were now ten minutes late.  
  
 _Great, that will help establish my reputation as a notorious latecomer._  
  
"Oh blimey, they're still here!" Geillis called, turning back to her. She was walking down the path to the college's entrance hall a few steps before her. The light shone through the windows and Brianna could recognize the silhouette of a crowd, people clustering together in little groups.  
  
Geillie pulled the door open and Brianna followed her into the welcoming warmth. A few students glanced at the newcomers, but continued with their chattering.  
  
"Ah, there you are, we were just about to go," a friendly voice remarked from the side. Brianna's heart began to beat faster as she turned around slowly. When she came face to face with Roger Wakefield, she had to resist the urge to just turn back and make a run for it.   
_Why has it to be him of all people?_   
She could feel her face heating up and wished for the ground to swallow her, but nothing of the sort happened.   
  
So instead she plucked up her last bit of courage and mumbled weakly "Yeah, we're here now."  
He seemed to sense her embarrassment - _no wonder_ \- and smiled reassuringly before he turned to the crowd. "Let's go, then!" he called loudly and strode ahead.  
  
As soon as he was out of earshot, she hissed "Geillis!" to her friend who looked mildly guilty. "Please tell me you didn't know he would be here," she pleaded.  
  
"Someone may have mentioned that there would be a supervisor because of some _incidents_ last year," she admitted sheepishly. "But I didn't think it would be him."  
  
Brianna sighed heavily. "All right, let's go then." _Wouldn't do to look like a coward_.  



	4. Chapter 4

 

**~Roger~**

 

Roger tried not to make it too obvious that he was looking back to see if Brianna Randall had come along.  
_But he had to make sure everyone was keeping up, hadn't he?_   
  
When the quarterly faculty meeting had decided that the traditional pub crawl at the beginning of the semester would be cancelled due to some objectionable occurrences in the past, he had spoken up.   
  
Roger remembered all too well how it was to come here without knowing anyone and being pushed headlong into a load of work. He didn't begrudge them a bit of fun and had more or less volunteered to play babysitter for a night.   
  
So here he was, trudging down the street with his hands buried in his pockets against the icy blasts of autumn wind and a horde of giggling students in tow.   
  
Roger finally caught sight of a flash of red at the end of the line and turned back with his spirits brightened. His thoughts drifted back to this morning and one of the more memorable encounters of his career. The warm and fuzzy feeling in his stomach hadn't left him, but common sense still prevailed. Surely she hadn't meant her proposal as an invitation for coffee, and even if she had, he couldn't very well accept it.   
  
He was so lost in his thoughts that he nearly missed the entrance to the pub they were headed to and came to an abrupt halt, causing several of the following students to stumble into him.

  
~~~

  
By the time they reached the third bar, Roger began to feel old. He had spent the last hours nursing his ale, making idle conversation with whoever was sitting next to him at the time and stealing occasional glances at Brianna Randall. _Just making sure she's alright_ , he told himself. Not that he would have needed to bother, she only ordered Coca Cola and grimaced when she took a sip of the whisky her friend offered her.   
  
She was an exception with that, everybody else was certainly drinking their fill. But what could he say, it was a pub crawl after all - and he liked to enjoy a good whisky himself on occasion. Ten minutes later, when the first one toppled over with his chair, Roger decided that this was carrying things too far.   
  
"Let's call it a night," he raised his voice to be heard over the general buzz of chattering. "You have classes tomorrow, the other professors will blame me if you're too hungover to make it."   
  
Much to his surprise, they started to gather their things without complaining apart from some occasional muttered 'spoilsport'. In the meantime, Roger counted the heads of the students scattered  around the tables. It wasn't too crowded for a week night, but he only came up to twenty-two. Four missing.   
  
He scanned the room again, this time paying attention to the faces he was counting. Not a hint of red to be seen.   


_She probably just went to the bathroom_ , he tried to calm himself. He waited for a few minutes, glancing impatiently at the door to the back every few seconds, before he stood up to investigate.   
  
"I'll be right back!" he called, but nobody payed attention to him when he made his way to the back.   
  
The light was even dimmer than in the taproom and he began to question his rash decision.

 _What should he even do? He couldn't very well burst into the ladies' room, could he?_   
  
Roger rounded the corner and his heart tightened in his chest when he stumbled over the solution to this dilemma. They were so wrapped up in their kissing that they didn't even notice his presence. The red-haired girl stood on tiptoes as she buried her hands in the boy's hair, but even so she was too short to be Brianna, it was her friend. Relief washed over him, much stronger than he liked to admit.   
  
"Sorry to interrupt," he said ironically, not feeling sorry in the slightest, "but we're about to leave." The boy jumped back with a start and flushed violently, hastily trying to fix the state of his rumpled clothes. The girl however turned slowly and narrowed her eyes at him, not looking disconcerted in the slightest, instead flashing him a smirk.   
_She was trouble, that one._   
  
"There are two others missing. Is Miss Randall with you?" he asked, trying to remember her name. Julia? No, Gillian, Gillian Edgars.   
  
"Is she not in the taproom?" Gillian Edgars asked, surprise in her voice.   
"She was with me when we went to the bathroom," she added thoughtfully, "but I haven't seen her since." She looked genuinely worried about it and that only added to his concern.   
  
"Well, if she went through that door and didn't come back to the taproom, she has to be here _somewhere_ , right?" he murmured to himself without expecting an answer and set off to look, the two lovebirds following in his wake.   
  
The narrow corridor didn't leave room for any hiding places, so the only possibility was the WC. An absurd urge to laugh came over him as he thought about his earlier doubts about barging into the ladies' room. He quickly suppressed the notion and gestured for Geillis to take over this part of the search.   
  
Roger himself opened the door to the men's room without much expectation when the strong sense of a déjà vu clouded his vision and he could feel his stomach drop an inch.

  
~~~

  
Soon enough, his vision fell back into place, but the sight remained. This time the redhead _was_ Brianna, pressed against the wall by a young man taller than her and they were engaged in the same way as her friend Geillis and the boy had been moments before.   
  
He entertained the thought of simply turning around and leaving them to it.  He had no desire to confront her in that situation, but while he was still staring at them, he noticed that Brianna was struggling against him. Her wrists were pinned against the wall, but she clearly tried to turn her head to the side to escape his advances.   
  
All his hesitation was forgotten as the feeling of burning rage consumed him and he lept forward to her rescue.   
He dragged the bastard off her with a strength fueled by fury and grabbed him by the turned up collar of his shirt, yanking him back roughly. The boy was panting hard and had to brush his pale blond hair back that was falling into his eyes. He raised his arms in surrender, but paired with an infuriating smile that made Roger's blood run cold.   
  
"Hey man, we were just enjoying ourselves a bit," he drawled smugly.   
Roger was tempted to wipe the cocky grin from his face, but he just so managed to restrain himself.   
  
"That's Mr. Wakefield to you, boy," he spat at him instead. "And it didna look like it to _me_ , although you surely had yer share of fun for the night. That's over now, though, I'll tell ye. I'll take ye to the Dean's office and she'll no appreciate being disturbed so late. Then she'll give ye a punishment you deserve and she'll inform yer father about it."   
  
Surprisingly, the boy turned pale at that and his eyes widened in fear.   
"No, not my father, please, Sir!" he pleaded desperately.   
  
Roger ignored him.   
"What's yer name?" he hissed.   
  
The boy swallowed meekly. "S-Stephen Bonnet, Sir."   
  
"You're going back to the others now, Mr. Bonnet, and wait until I get back. If you so much as _look_ at another girl, I'm going to make your life a misery, is that understood?" Roger said with as much menace in his voice as he could muster - and that was a considerable deal, he thought.   
  
"Yes, Sir," he replied hastily and bolted for the door. Roger took a deep breath to steady himself and shake off the remnants of his rage. The awareness of his surroundings began to come back to him and he noticed Geillis and her friend standing in the doorway.

  
Roger beckoned to the boy to catch his attention. “Could you do me a favour and keep an eye on him?” he asked. He nodded readily and followed the troublemaker. All immediate concerns thus sorted, he could finally direct his attention back to his real care.   
  
Brianna was still leaning against the wall with her eyes closed, her face looking alarmingly pale in the artificial light. His earlier feeling of unease and concern washed back with all its might and he was by her side in an instant.   
  
"Are you alright?" 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added the chapter on tumblr a while ago and totally forgot to do it here, sorry!  
> I'm also sorry for the long hiatus, but when the show's back, I'll be as well :)

**~Brianna~**

 

_ Are you alright _ ?

  
Brianna opened her eyes to see Roger Wakefield hovering anxiously by her side. He raised his hand to touch her arm, but decided against it and ran his fingers awkwardly through his hair instead.    
  
Strangely enough, she  _ felt _ alright - in a curiously detached way, almost as if this had happened to someone else and she had been only present as a witness. 

"I think I'm fine," she replied slowly and tried to give him a reassuring smile, but judging from the worry in his eyes, she wasn't very convincing.   
  
Not until Roger turned away from her and spoke a few words to someone did she notice Geillis standing in the hallway. They seemed to have reached some sort of agreement and he went off with a last glance at her. Geillis hurried to her side immediately and led her to the sink. Brianna stared at her reflection in the cracked mirror; her face was pale and her eyes had a disturbingly expressionless look to them. Turning on the cold water, Geillis urged her to clean up. Obligingly, she splashed her face and rinsed her mouth, the cold water on her skin making her feel a bit more like herself again.    
  
In this moment, Roger returned with a tumbler filled to the brim with whisky. She wrinkled her nose at the smell, having tasted the vile stuff earlier, but he insisted that it would do her good. So she downed the glass in one and grimaced as the liquid burned its way down her throat. After a time, the burning sensation subsided and Brianna could feel the warmth settling in her stomach and spreading through her body. It brought a bit of color back to her cheeks and cleared her head enough to think again.    
  
"Better?" Roger asked. She nodded, trying to look anywhere but in his eyes. Unfortunately, the whisky had erased the pleasant numbness along with the shock and she felt unsettled by his gentle concern. She didn't know exactly why it was bothering her so much. Maybe because she had liked to believe herself strong and independent, capable of handling any situation she was thrown into, but clearly she had overestimated herself. His genuine apprehension was probably pushing her bruised ego too far.   
  
He seemed to sense that she would rather be left to herself for a moment and a nod was everything he was likely to get and didn't press her any further. "I need you to make a statement for the dean, do you think you can do that?" he asked instead. She gave him another nod and he took it as a sufficient confirmation.

  
~~~

  
Not ten minutes later, the whole party was assembled outside the pub and headed back to the college. It could have almost been a perfectly usual and unassuming walk if not for the way Roger Wakefield gripped the elbow of one particular student just a bit too tight and Brianna Randall clung to the arm of her friend just a trifle stronger than on the way there.    
  
Although some of the other students had directed a few curious glances at them when they had returned to the main room, most of them had been too blitzed by then to notice anything. Bree was glad that Roger had handled the situation so well and hadn't let on that anything was amiss.   
  
Brianna and Geillis were walking only a few paces behind him this time, just enough people between them to keep their distance and not leave him out of their sight. When the merry party arrived back at their starting point at last, Roger counted them again carefully before giving his permission to leave. The party began to disassemble slowly, students setting off for their respective dorms until only the four of them were left.    
  
Brianna was purposely keeping her distance and by now she wasn't entirely sure anymore if it was out of fear or if she wanted to avoid punching the wretched sod that had dared to shake her so. The walk through the fresh night air had done her much good, but it had also fueled her indignation and anger.   
  
Roger Wakefield seemed, once again, to sense her reluctance to share any proximity with her erstwhile assailant and gestured for Martin, the porter on night duty who had come to greet them, to come over and take Bonnet into custody. "Take him to the dean's office, aye?" he instructed with a friendly clap on the back.   
  
Then he turned back and approached them with his keys in hand, fumbling to single one out. "You can wait in my office while I fetch the dean. She'll want to talk to you first, so it won't be long I hope." Brianna thought he would offer the key to Geillis, but he stopped in front of her and held it out for her to take. Their fingers brushed when she took hold of the office key and Roger gave her a tight smile and a grim nod before he disappeared abruptly.

  
~~~

  
Brianna sat in the same chair she’d been sitting in just this morning - _had it really only been a few hours ago?_ \- and waited for Mr. Wakefield's return. She was feeling unaccountably nervous considering she had done nothing wrong, but an interrogation by the dean was bound to make anyone feel like a schoolgirl caught with the hand in a cookie jar - she was resolved to put on a brave face though.  
  
She had met the dean last week at the welcoming ceremony for the new students and had found her to be very approachable, but a little on the authoritative side. She certainly knew what she wanted and was probably used to getting her way - Bree just hoped that her view would concur with her own.  
  
Finally, the door opened and Brianna was relieved to see that she needn't have worried about her reception - Roger had obviously filled the dean in on the way and she gave her a kind smile that betrayed no sign of pity or mistrust as she introduced herself.   
  
"Edwina Briggs, nice to meet you, Miss Randall."  
She seated herself in Roger's chair, leaving him to hover awkwardly as she and Geillis occupied the only other seats, before he settled on leaning against his desk.  
Brianna couldn't think of anything to say, so she waited for the older woman to start the inevitable conversation and she came straight to the point.   
  
"I would like you to tell me everything that happened tonight, if you feel up to it. " She looked at her expectantly, like she wasn’t used to being refused, but Brianna was prepared to do as she asked. She took a deep breath and nodded, taking a few moments to organize her thoughts.  
  
Just as she was about to speak, Roger interrupted her with a hasty exclamation. "I can just leave if you feel uncomfortable speaking about it in front of me..."  
  
_It isn't like I'll be comfortable either way_ , she thought, and strangely, she didn't want him to leave.  
"No, it's okay; stay."   
  
And so she told them. How she had waited for Geillis in the hallway. How he had come along and chatted with her pleasantly. Taken her by surprise and pulled her into the men's room. Pinned her against the wall and thrust his tongue into her mouth, pressing his body up against her. How she always thought something like that would never happen to her, and if it did, she would fight back.  
  
She couldn't bring herself to look anyone in the eye, so she fixed her gaze on the table instead, examining the papers, books and bric-a-brac scattered over its surface.  
  
"And I don't think it was the first time he did something like this, either. The way he grabbed me -" she shuddered, the memory flashing before her eyes "- he knew exactly how to hold me so I couldn't struggle."   
  
Her eyes still firmly fixed on the table, she noticed Roger leaning forward slightly, his shoulders tensed and his hand gripping the table, fist clenched and knuckles white.  
"It's not your fault!" he exclaimed suddenly. “That wee bastard took ye by surprise, thinking you were his to do as he pleases without consequences and he deserves what's coming his way."  
  
"I wouldn't put it quite like that, but he's right," the dean stepped in. "I don't want you to worry about it, I'll deal with him and see to it that he won't come anywhere near you again."

 

That seemed like a great opportunity to end the less than comfortable conversation, so she stood and thanked Mrs. Briggs for her understanding. Then she turned to Mr. Wakefield, but he had already moved across the room in the direction of the door.  

 

“Uhm, Mr. Wakefield?” she asked tentatively and followed him to the door.

He turned to her immediately and looked her straight in the eye. She forgot what she had wanted to say, flustered by his stare. 

“I, uhm, just wanted to thank you for, you know, coming when you did,” she stammered. “And now I probably owe you a coffee and a whisky,” she added impulsively, trying to make light of the situation. When he failed to respond, she felt heat creeping up her cheeks, but she stubbornly held his gaze until he looked away.

 

“Oh, erm, no, it's alright,” he said in a  distracted way and opened the door for her. “Good night.” He hastily closed the door behind them, but Bree thought she had spied a hint of red on his cheeks as well, although it was hard to tell with that shaggy beard.

  
Baffled, she stepped into the hallway and Geillis followed, giving her a quizzical look. She just shrugged and set off for home, but silently she wondered what that had been about.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next on: feat. Roger just out of the shower and a return to the actually intended plot. Also glasses.


End file.
